From Bideford to Appledore the meadows lie aglow

With kingcup and buttercup that flout the summer snow;

And crooked-back and silver-head shall mow the grass to-day,

And lasses turn and toss it till it ripen into hay;

For gone are all the careless youth did reap the land of yore,

The men that hie from Bideford and ruddy Appledore.

From Bideford and Appledore they swept the sea of old

With cross-bow and falconet to tap the Spaniard's gold;

They sped away with dauntless Drake to traffic on the Main,

To trick the drowsy galleon and loot the treasure train;

For fearless were the gallant hands that pulled the sweeping oar,

From Bideford and Appledore in craft of subtle gray

Are strong hearts and steady hearts to keep the sea to-day;

So well may fare the garden where the cider-apples bloom

And summer weaves her colour-threads upon a golden loom;

For ready are the tawny hands that guard the Devon shore,

The men that hie from Bideford and ruddy Appledore!